


All Dressed In White

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Human AU, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: Bog gets a special surprise at his bachelor party...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EndoratheWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/gifts).



> My Secret Santa gift to the lovely and fabulous EndoratheWitch!!!  
> Merry Christmas to you and yours, darling! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it for your sweet, beautiful, and talented self!  
> <3<3<3

“Guys, _where_ are we _goin’_?”

“For the last time, B.K., it’s a _surprise_!”

A huff of annoyance passed Bog King’s lips at his cousin, Steph’s, retort.  Almost pouting, he sat back and crossed his arms tight across his chest, drumming the long fingers of his left hand against his bicep. 

The evening had started out so well.

Tonight was his bachelor party, and the plan had been to just hang out in his apartment eating snacks and playing video games with his four closest buddies: Steph, who despite being a girl, had known Bog all his life, so there was no way he couldn’t invite her, her boyfriend and Bog’s former college roommate, Theo, and finally, his high school friends Brutus and Gus, the Richardson twins.  

Bog had been having a great time with everyone, pigging out on pizza, nachos, and beer, as well as joking and roaring with laughter as they all took turns at Team Fortress 2, Super Smash Bros, Mario Kart, and Left 4 Dead 2.  So obviously, the _last_ thing he’d expected after a quick bathroom break at around 11pm, was for his groomsmen (and best _woman_ ) to grab him, haul him outside, and shove him into the back of Steph’s SUV, with no explanation other than that they had something special set up for him. 

Well, he wouldn’t have minded so much if they hadn’t included a bloody blindfold!

It was a good thing he trusted his friends.  They were never ones for elaborate/embarrassing pranks, and he’d only had two rules for the evening...

First: He was to only have a two beer limit; he definitely did _not_ want to be sick during the ceremony tomorrow.

And second:  No. Strippers. Allowed.

Not even as a wide-eyed, awkward teenager had Bog ever really been interested in going to some dimly lit club and stuffing bills into the strap of a random scantily clad woman’s G-string while she sashayed to “You Can Leave Your Hat On.”  The very thought of such an invasively intimate encounter with a total stranger made his naturally shy and introverted self, cringe like mad.  Plus, he knew that his fiancé’s ex-boyfriend had cheated on her the day before their almost-wedding nearly five years ago, so he had _extra_ incentive to steer clear of the most clichéd bachelor party ‘tradition’ besides his own personal discomfort with it. 

So then, where _could_ they be taking him?  He really hadn’t a clue.  Bowling maybe?  Come to think of it, he _had_ mentioned last week that it’d been a while since they’d all gone together as a group to Lucky Strike.  That’d be fun!  They had great onion rings _and_ a pretty awesome arcade!

Bog was just beginning to smile in anticipation when he felt the car turn off the main road and pull to a smooth stop.  He let himself be guided out of the backseat and across what he assumed was the parking lot by his friends who all seemed to be trying hard not to burst out laughing, judging from all the coughs and snorts he could hear around him. 

But when he sensed them entering a building, his eagerness was instantly replaced with confusion.  Instead of the clatter of bowling balls hitting pins and the overhead mix of 70s and 80s classic rock, he could hear nothing but his friends muted giggling and......a very distant and slow bass thrum. 

_What the-?_

“Hi!”  Steph’s voice greeted to someone; A host? Receptionist? Cashier?  Hell if Bog knew.  “We have a Mr. _King_ here for his _surprise_?”

There was something _odd_ about how Steph was speaking, all emphatic and gleeful, like she was using code.

“Oh, yes!”  A deep, male voice Bog didn’t recognize replied.  “Everything’s ready.  Here’s the key.  Just take him all the way down to the last door on the left.  Congratulations, Mr. King!  Enjoy!”

Bog didn’t have a chance to answer the unidentified man before he was abruptly steered to the right and down what must’ve been a hallway.   

As they proceeded, Bog’s mind scrambled to come up with a logical explanation as to where he was and just _what_ his friends had in store for him, but he only came up empty and suspicious as he heard more muffled, musical beats from either side, and...

...was that _moaning_?

_What the hell?_

Suddenly nervous, Bog’s feet began to drag, but it did little good with Brutus and Gus holding his arms; those guys were built like tanks.  He had no more time to resist before he was turned to the left and there was the rattle and swing of a door opening in front of him. 

In the span of about two seconds, Bog’s blindfold was ripped off and he was shoved into the mysterious room.  Before he could even get his bearings, the door slammed shut and the lock clicked. 

“Have a nice time, Bog!”  Thang shouted from outside as he and the rest of the group erupted with laughter that quickly faded away.

Whirling around in bewilderment, Bog felt his stomach sink as he took in his surroundings:

He was in a dimly lit room with dark wood floors and brick walls painted black.  In the center of the space was a metal chair bolted in place, facing a tall, red velvet curtain.

And directly between the chair and the curtain......was a dancer’s pole.   

_Fuck!_

“Goddammit, guys!  I said no strippers!”  Bog yelled, stomping up to the door and uselessly trying the handle.

“Let me outta here!  Open this door!”  He demanded, pounding his angry fists against the frame.  “Do ye fuckers hear me?!  I _mean_ it!!!”

He couldn’t believe they would do this!  They _knew_ how both he _and_ his wife-to-be felt about it!  Did they _want_ her to _kill_ him?! 

The situation only got monumentally worse when he heard the curtain slide back.

“Shit!”  Bog spat, closing his eyes tightly and waving frantically over his shoulder to the poor, innocent girl who was probably just working her way through college.  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there’s been a _huge_ mistake!  I-I’ll tip ye anyway fer yer trouble, thanks!  STEPH! THEO! BRUTUS, GUS!!!  IF YE DORN’T GET YER ARSES BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, SO HELP ME, I’LL-!” 

“ _Stop_ screaming and sit _down_ , Mr. King!”

Any further raging dried up in Bog’s throat like a raisin the instant he heard the voice.

A voice he’d know anytime, anywhere.

Slowly, Bog looked back around and when he saw her, he fell against the door in utter shock.

“ _M-Marianne_?!”

One, two, three blinks proved that he wasn’t dreaming.  His fiancé was standing on the other side of the room with her hands on her hips and a wily smirk on her face. 

Now, for a split second, he thought he was about to get his balls busted...that is, until he realized just what she was _wearing_.

Marianne was clad in a bride-themed stripper outfit: a short, sleeveless, low-cut dress with frilly trim and ribbon lacing up the front, heels, fish-net stockings attached to the lacey straps of a garter belt hidden beneath her skirt, long, silky gloves, a small veil...

...and of course, the whole outfit was the traditional pure white.

He might’ve appreciated the irony...

...if he wasn’t so damn confused and turned the hell _on_!

The bright color of her already unfairly sexy getup only made her dark brown pixie tresses and signature deep purple makeup stand out more, giving her an extra air of that infamous femme fatale persona he knew perfectly well wasn’t an _act_ for _her_.

As if on cue, she tilted her head to the side and her smirk grew wider.

“ _Surprise_.”

“Wh-wha-?” He stammered like the buffoon he was.  “What...what’s goin’ on?  What are ye _doin’_ here?”

Marianne heaved a dramatically heavy sigh.

“Apparently finding out that my future-husband still needs lots of training.”

“Huh?  Tr-trainin’?”

“I told you to sit down, and you still haven’t done what I said.  Love, honor, and _obey_ , Bog.”

Quickly, but cautiously, as if he expected a bomb to go off or something, Bog stumbled over to the chair and took his seat.  Not knowing what to do with his hands, he just fisted them over his knees, the right of which was bouncing nervously. 

“That’s better.”  Marianne praised.  “Happy wife, happy life.”

Bog gulped as he then watched her reach under the curtain to retrieve a duffel bag and a small boom box.  She set the music player on the floor, and pulled something shiny out of the bag he didn’t get a chance to identify before she hid it behind her back.

“Wh-what...what are ye gonna do to me?”  He croaked.

“Oh, _Bog_.  Come on now, you’re a big boy.”  His fiancé shook her head with a soft chuckle before eyeing him like a hungry cat.  “What do you _think_ I’m gonna do to you?”

Despite his dick automatically twitching in his pants at her obvious implication, Bog’s apprehension must’ve shown on his face as he glanced around.  He wasn’t exactly the most... _adventurous_ when it came to their sexual escapades _outside_ the safety and comfort of their home.

“Relax, baby.”  Marianne soothed, noticing his hesitation.  “I know the owners.”

“Ye...ye _do_?”

“Yeah, remember my cousin and her husband?  Lizzy and Pare?  This is _their_ place: The Lizard Lounge.”

“Yer cousins own a _strip_ club?”

He never would’ve expected _that_ , considering how, for lack of a better term, ‘upper class’ her family history was.  A fact her father prided himself in never letting Bog forget.

“Yup.”  Marianne replied, taking two leisurely steps towards him, resulting in both his excitement _and_ anxiety spiking.

“But...but wh-what about c-cameras?”

Bog certainly didn’t relish the idea of some sweaty security guard getting an inappropriate load of _his_ bride to be.

“Taken care of; I disconnected it myself.”  His fiancé said, nodding to the door.  “We have complete and utter privacy.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Bog felt a tad bit reassured when he saw a standard Sony surveillance cam installed just above the doorframe with its video input cord hanging uselessly beneath the casing.

“Now,” Marianne purred once she had his attention again, “are you ready for me?”

Not even heaven itself could help Bog find his voice, so all he did was nod.

“Good; put these on.”  She then instructed, tossing him a pair of real handcuffs.  “Hook ‘em through the slats in the back of your chair.”

With shaking hands, Bog did as he was told.  First securing his right wrist, and then with a little clumsy maneuvering, he locked his other wrist and was successfully bound to his spot. 

In the meantime, Marianne had moved her boom box against the curtain, directly behind the pole.  Without warning, she pressed play and Bog’s fingers eagerly curled into his palms as Def Leppard belted through the stillness.

 _Love is like a bomb_  
_Bomb_  
_Bomb_  
_Love is like a bomb_  
_I'm hot_

The opening build of the song gave Marianne the opportunity to strut in front of Bog and lean back against the pole, closing her eyes in rapture as she hugged herself and sensually stroked her glove-covered hands up and down her arms. 

_Hey!_

_Hey!_

_Hey!_

Pounding drums and sassy guitar riffs were punctuated by Marianne swinging her hips to the sharp beats and sliding her palms up her thighs.  Wicked heat crept beneath Bog’s clothes as a result.

 _Love is like a bomb baby c'mon get it on_  
_Livin' like a lover with a radar phone_  
_Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp_  
_Demolition woman, can I be your man? (Your man)_

Slowly, but staying in sync with the music, Bog’s teeth sank into his lower lip as Marianne locked eyes with him and pulled off her gloves one by one.  Winking, she chucked them in his direction where they landed messily across his lap. 

 _Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light_  
_Television lover, baby, go all night_  
_Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet_  
_Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah_  
_So c'mon, take a bottle, shake it up_  
_Break the bubble, break it up_

With her hands free, Marianne gripped the pole and walked in a sultry circle before looping her arm around it and doing a sort of deep dip, stretching one of her toned, bare legs out from beneath the mini-slit in her dress.

Then, with almost alarming swiftness, she stood up straight and grinned darkly at him as her hands slipped behind her, appearing to pull down her zipper.  And as soon as the chorus started, the material fell away...

 _Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_C'mon fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Ooh I can't get enough_  
_I'm hot, sticky sweet_  
_From my head to my feet, yeah_

“Holy shit.”  Bog breathed once her dress hit the floor, revealing a short, ivory, skin-tight bustier, a lacy garter belt, and a (sexy as fuck) thong with a white rose pattern over the sheer crotch.

She followed up by kicking the mock-wedding gown aside and pivoting on her heel to the right side of the pole, where she stepped in close, grabbed it by both hands, and arched her spine before rolling up like a serpent.  After two repetitions, from there, she immediately pulled away just enough to leap at the pole and gently swing all the way around. 

Upon completion, she planted herself against the front side of the pole, hands above her head, and gradually slid down into a squat, making sure to spread her knees wide to give her excited fiancé an eyeful.

 _Listen, red light, yellow light, green-a-light go_  
_Crazy little woman in a one man show_  
_Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love_  
_Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up (loosen up) loosen up_

Lifting herself up, Marianne braced her hands on her knees and ground her shapely ass against the pole, turning to the side so her fiancé could get the full effect.  Bog, for his part, unconsciously rattled the handcuffs and felt his breathing increase in both speed and volume...

...especially when she unhooked her bustier and threw it over her shoulder.

 _You gotta squeeze a little, tease a little please a little more_  
_Easy operator come a knockin' on my door_  
_Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet_  
_Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah_  
_Give a little more, take a bottle, shake it up_  
_Break the bubble, break it up_

Bog’s palms practically sweat with the envy as Marianne fondled her own beautiful breasts, but when she slunk around behind the pole and pressed it against her cleavage, he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips as he actually tried (and obviously failed) to get up out of the chair.

Giggling at his reaction, Marianne made a show of licking a teasing stripe up the pole.

 _Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_C'mon and fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Oh, I can't get enough_  
_I'm hot, sticky sweet_  
_From my head to my feet yeah_

Twisting to the left, Bog watched with a rapidly watering mouth as Marianne wrapped one leg around the pole and stretched backwards, running her naughty hands all over herself and jerking her hips to arguably the dirtiest part of Joe Elliot’s famous lyrics. 

 _You got the peaches, I got the cream_  
_Sweet to taste, saccharine_  
_Cause I'm hot, (say what), sticky sweet_  
_From my head, (my head) to my feet_  
_Do you take sugar? One lump or two?_

As if in a lustful trance Bog watched her continue her raunchy performance.  He remembered her mentioning at one point that both she and her sister Dawn had taken pole-dancing lessons in college, but he never would’ve _dreamed_ she was this talented at it.  Somewhere beneath his clawing desire to break free and take her up against the nearest wall, he was honored that she’d opted to share this particular skill with him in private and on such a special occasion.   

Every move was a work of art:  Jumps, high kicks, spins, lifts; and all with such a raw sexuality that already had him painfully aroused!  He squirmed in his seat, fighting in vain with his restrains.  His temperature felt so unbearably high, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he looked down and saw literal flames eating away at his clothing.  Though in all fairness, excluding the burns, the destruction of his clothes could be considered fortuitous, considering how all he wanted to do was get to Marianne. 

Hold her...

Taste her...

 _Fuck_ her....

 _Take a bottle (take a bottle)_  
_Shake it up (shake it up)_  
_Break the bubble (break it up)_  
_Break it up (break it up)_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_C'mon fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me_  
_Ooh I can't get enough_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Ooh in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me_  
_Get it, come get it_  
_Pour your sugar on me, oh_  
_Pour some sugar on me yeah, sugar me_

By the near end of the last refrain, Bog was still drooling over the image of his fiancé lowering into a crab-walk position so she could shamelessly rub herself on the pole, but not even _that_ prepared him for her big finish.  She strode in front of the pole again, flashed him a coy grin before gracefully hoisting herself upwards and using her core muscles to push her lower body higher...

...so she could do the splits mid-air and crane her neck back to meet his heated gaze dead on. 

When the song hit its pounding conclusion, Marianne did a sweeping maneuver to get down to the floor again.  Bog was entirely _less_ dignified in that he’d managed to scoot himself almost to the edge of the chair, as far as the handcuffs would allow him to reach, so now he was comically, if not a bit _uncomfortably_ , draped over his seat. 

“What did ya think?”  Marianne asked, smiling rather smugly at his posture and she cocked her hip and absently brushed her fingers across her clavicle. 

“Tough girl, yer _amazin’_!”  Bog marveled in a breathy voice.  “God, yer so fuckin’ hot!  I want ye so bad!”

Marianne giggled.

“My, how _complimentary_!  But I hope your wedding vows will be more G-rated.”

At that moment, a new tune began: _Whole Lotta Love_ by Led Zeppelin.  Bog instantly perked up again, remembering that that was the exact same song that was playing the first time they made out.

 _You need cooling_  
_Baby I'm not fooling_  
_I'm gonna send ya_  
_Back to schooling_

“Come on, love!”  He begged, loudly rattling the handcuffs.  “Unlock me!  I _need_ ye!  Please, I need ye _now_!”

Marianne stared at him for a minute and tapped her chin, pretending to think about it.

 _A-way down inside_  
_A-honey you need it_  
_I'm gonna give you my love_  
_I'm gonna give you my love_

“Oh, but I can’t do that, Mr. King.”  She ultimately decided, and Bog’s stomach plummeted. 

“Wh-...wh-why not?”

She wasn’t seriously going to tease him to the brink of insanity and leave it at _that_ , was she?

His fears were half assuaged...and half _intensified_ by her response:

“Because I’m not quite done with you yet.”

 _Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_

A fever broke out over Bog’s flesh as Marianne sidled up to him and knelt between his parted legs, keeping her predatory eyes fixed on his own.  He gasped and flinched when she dragged her nails along his thighs, leaning in close and making him gape at her naked breasts.  What he wouldn’t do to suckle them if they weren’t so damn far away!

 _You've been learning_  
_Um baby I been learning_  
_All them good times baby, baby_  
_I've been year-yearning_

Walking her fingers back up his legs, Bog chewed his lip again as Marianne deftly popped the button of his jeans and tugged down the zipper.  He uttered a quiet whine at the absence of denim pressure on his hardened cock, but when his fiancé worked his pants and boxers down just enough to expose him to the open air, he froze like a deer, pulse racing.   

 _A-way, way down inside_  
_A-honey you need-ah_  
_I'm gonna give you my love, ah_  
_I'm gonna give you my love, ah oh_

As soon as she grasped him, Bog’s hips jumped and his head fell back in a throaty moan as she firmly and rhythmically pumped him.  Expertly, she squeezed tighter at the base and loosened at the head, making him pant and writhe. 

 _Whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_

To Bog’s fascination, as she continued to jerk him off, Marianne drew nearer so she could affectionately nuzzle her face against his erection like a young child would a wildflower.   

“You are so beautiful.”  She murmured, and Bog shook with the weight of his love for this woman. 

He’d never considered himself a looker. In reality, for the longest time, and even sometimes still today, he’d say he was downright hideous.  What, with his wiry build, gaunt features, and seemingly endless collection of scars. 

But Marianne had been the only woman (besides his own mother) who adamantly insisted that he was definitely _not_ hideous.  And, obviously in the former’s case, her insatiable sexual appetite for him and him alone, as well as her devotion and support, certainly did wonders to his self-esteem.

And in less than 24-hours, he was going to _marry_ her.  His best friend, his voice of amusement, reason, and optimism.

His Marianne!

 _You've been cooling_  
_And baby I've been drooling_  
_All the good times, baby_  
_I've been misusing_

The universe must’ve concurred, for Marianne then hungrily licked her lips before taking him into her sweet mouth.

Right away, Bog cried out in ecstasy, bucking beneath her as she happily sucked him like a lolly. 

 _A-way, way down inside_  
_I'm gonna give ya my love_  
_I'm gonna give ya every inch of my love_  
_I'm gonna give ya my love_

Besides being buried to the hilt inside her heavenly pussy, nothing else compared to the sensation of Marianne worshiping him with her mouth.  It was an act that she appeared to enjoy immensely, if how often she did it was any indication.  He didn’t blame her; after all, _his_ favorite method of foreplay was going down on _her_.  No joke, he could do that to her _all_ night!

_Hey!  
Alright! Let's go!_

_Whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_  
_Wanna whole lotta love_

Much to Bog’s delight, Marianne upped her game by relaxing her throat and drawing him in as deep as she could without gagging.  She swallowed around him and hummed, making him helplessly tremble and whimper.

 _Way down inside_  
_Woman, you need, yeah_  
_Love_

Her evil tongue laved and teased the extra sensitive skin on the underside of his swollen tip.  Lightly, her teeth scraped and he squirmed and wailed as she cupped and played with his balls.  Tighter and tighter, she would him up like a jack-in-the-box. 

 _My, my, my, my_  
_My, my, my, my_  
_Lord_  
_Shake for me girl_

The fever in his veins was threatening to consume him, so much so he could hardly see straight.  He was completely at her mercy.  If she asked him to shake the stars out of the sky and make her a necklace out of them, by God, he’d find a way to do it!  She was his queen, his goddess, his future wife; and she was getting him so close, he was going to explode any second!

 _I wanna be your backdoor man_  
_Hey, oh, hey, oh_  
_Hey, oh, hey, oh_  
_Ooh_  
_Oh, oh, oh, oh_

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!  M-Marianne!  Marianne, I’m gonna-!”

She released him from her mouth with a barely audible *pop*, only to swiftly stroke him in earnest until he couldn’t hold it in any longer.  With a bellowing shout, Bog thrashed and stiffened as he burst with pleasure, but was beyond shocked to see that Marianne had deliberately aimed him so that his cum shot all over her chin and breasts.  In his whole goddamn life, he’d never seen anything so unbelievably erotic, so it was no wonder he pretty much swooned.

 _Cool, my, my baby_  
_Ah-keep it cooling baby_  
_Ah-keep it cooling baby_  
_Ah-keep it cooling baby_  
_Ah-keep it cooling baby_  
_Ah-keep it cooling baby_

Spent, and limp as jelly, Bog sagged in his chair and panted like a dog in the peak of summer.  In his dazed afterglow, he was only partly aware of Marianne carefully tucking him back into his jeans and rising to her feet to go switch off the boom box and stow it in the bag.  In its place, she fished out a wet nap to clean her face and chest, and a folded navy rain coat.  She straightened the coat and wrapped herself in it, stuffed the soiled napkin into her pocket, and hurried to gather her discarded articles of clothing. 

When her bag was finally packed, she strolled around behind Bog and bent down to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m glad you enjoyed your surprise.  Wish I could stay for more, but...I don’t wanna break tradition _that_ much.” 

Bog made a pitiful groan of complaint in reply and drunkenly lurched towards her.

“Sorry, sweetie.” Marianne crooned, petting his hair.  “This was just a... _preview_ of coming attractions.  You’ll have to wait ‘til we get to our honeymoon cabin for the rest.”

_Well then, woman, if I have my way, ye worn’t leave the bedroom in that place for the whole week!_

“So, see you tomorrow at the ceremony; I’ll be the one in white...,” she whispered into his ear before giving the lobe a slight nip, “...with _nothing_ underneath.”

His heart stuttered at her prophetic words, as something tiny and hard was nudged between his fingers. 

“Here’s the key.”  Marianne explained.  “Later, babe.”

With that, Bog watched as his fiancé casually strolled away, sashaying her hips for good measure, and vanished through the curtain.  He heard the faint sound of a hidden door opening and thudding closed, leaving him all alone. 

The wedding couldn’t come fast enough!

Grateful for the few times he and Marianne had used bondage tactics in the bedroom, it was fairly easy for him to unlock his handcuffs without looking.  Rubbing his sore wrists, he stood to stretch his legs and...readjust his pants.

After roughly five minutes, there was a timid knock at the door.

“Bog?”  It was Theo.  “You ready to go home?”

“Yeah.”  Bog called, placing the handcuffs into his back pocket and approaching the door as the lock turned and the door opened to reveal his cousin’s boyfriend. 

Glancing into the empty hall, Bog quirked an eyebrow at the much shorter man.

“Where is everybody?” 

“Steph left with Marianne; she figured, erm... _afterwards_ , you’d probably just prefer to hang with the guys for the rest of the night.  Brutus and Gus are waiting in the car.”  Theo explained, leading the way to the lobby in an attempt to hide his knowing snicker.  “How ya feelin’, man?”

Bog only shrugged with a small laugh and answered truthfully:

“ _So_ ready to be married to that crazy, Tough Girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> *great big hug and forever love*


End file.
